Once more, Jiang Wang beheld Lei Zhanqian, this time amidst the grand conferment ceremony upon the Pointing Generals Platform. Though his merits in the Battle of Xingyue Plain, the very core of the conflict, were deemed offset by his transgressions, Jiang Wang could not absent himself from the ceremony entirely, a mere presence amidst the throngs. Yet, this conferment held no relevance to him.

Following the conclusion of the Battle of Xingyue Plain, Lei Zhanqian had vanished without a trace, his presence withdrawn from the public eye. A stark contrast to his former self, who had always sought the spotlight. Truth be told, even in the thick of the Xingyue Plain conflict, he had arrived only at the very last moment, joining the fray only after Jiang Wang’s mid-battle entry, and his mood throughout had been far from pleasant. Connecting this to the matter of Jiang Wuqi, it was evident this “cousin” had held prior knowledge.

Seeing him again today, Jiang Wang was struck by his haggard appearance, utterly devoid of his former dominance. The fierce courage he’d displayed facing three foes alone at the Xingyue Plain encampment, the awe-inspiring might of unleashing thunderous punishment in place of heavenly judgment on the battlefield—all had vanished. His unkempt hair hung listlessly, his eyes dry and strained. Even as he received his conferment, he seemed distracted, lost in thought.

Shi Mingqing, presiding over the ceremony, did not press the matter, merely going through the motions before allowing Lei Zhanqian to step down. The fall of a sagacious prince like Jiang Wuqi, a fall that had even implicated the commander of the Zhan Yu Army, Yan Tu, undoubtedly weighed heavily. As another of the Nine Cadre commanders, Shi Mingqing’s emotional state was difficult to ascertain.

“Ah,” Zhong Xuan Sheng sighed, “Wang brother, how can you bear to bully him again in the future?” His expression was one of exaggerated kindness, as if he were not the one who had sent the letter that had driven Lei Zhanqian in a fury to the capital overnight, and who had subsequently profited handsomely from him.

Jiang Wang shot the stout youth a glare. Here he was, a promising young cultivator, being portrayed by this fellow as a bullying ruffian. Utterly infuriating. Had he, Jiang Wang, ever bullied anyone? Had not all his actions been forced counterattacks?

“If you speak a few less sentences, you’d be doing others a favor,” he retorted coolly.

The two exchanged glares, then simultaneously averted their gazes, and almost as one, their eyes fell upon Xie Baoshu.

In this war, the prestige of the Qi state had soared. The young talents who had participated in the Battle of Xingyue Plain, their conferments varying according to their performance, saw their family backgrounds ensuring their merits were fully acknowledged, their transgressions minimized. Following this great war, they were at the very least eligible for positions as deputy generals at the Nine Cadre level. Of course, in terms of official rank, all remained below the third-grade Golden Melon Warrior, Jiang Wang. With a cultivation yet to reach the Shenlin realm, holding a third-grade official position, Jiang Qingyang remained unique within the Qi state.

Xie Baoshu stood upon the platform, receiving his award with great spirit. After the intense battle on the Xingyue Plain, facing life and death, earning honor, he had undergone a transformation of thought. He could not defeat Jiang Wang? So be it. A true man aspired to travel far and leave his mark; how could he be ensnared by petty grudges and resentments? Miss Wen was to be married? So be it. A great man need not fear being without a wife!

He descended from the high platform, his proud gaze sweeping across the onlookers. Upon seeing Zhong Xuan Sheng and Jiang Wang, he even nodded gracefully. The meaning was clear: I, Xie Baoshu, possess great magnanimity; I forgive you!

Below the platform, Zhong Xuan Sheng furrowed his brow. “Is Xie Xiaobao provoking us?”

“There’s that flavor to it!” Jiang Wang agreed. “Look, he’s even nodding from that elevated position!”

The two exchanged glances, tacitly reaching a consensus regarding their next target.

Shi Mingqing’s time was precious, thus the entire conferment ceremony was streamlined and swift. In truth, were it not for the political significance of the “victory over Jing,” the scale of the Xingyue Plain war alone would not have warranted the oversight of the Military God himself, nor a Nine Cadre commander hosting the post-war conferment. The location of the ceremony on the Pointing Generals Platform, rather than the Imperial Ancestral Temple, underscored the symbolic nature of this war, its true significance lying in the behind-the-scenes struggles between Qi and Jing.

Soon, the conferment ceremony concluded. The outstanding performer, Li Longchuan, was granted a formal Nine Cadre general position. The yet-to-be-proven Zhong Xuan Sheng received a deputy Nine Cadre general position. As for Yan Fu, who had adorned the war with Dao Origin Stones, he secured a lucrative post within the Ministry of Revenue. Of course, this “lucrative” was relative; for Young Master Yan, there was no such thing as a fat or lean position, as he paid for all his appointments anyway. After fighting the Battle of Xingyue Plain, setting aside its political significance, among the various young talents in the entire Qi state team, only Yan Fu had lost money! And his losses were an unfillable chasm. But even this “chasm” was relative; on others, it was a chasm, on him, perhaps just a pinprick, which he did not care about.

Zhong Xuan Sheng held no dissatisfaction. At this moment, he and Jiang Wang were already contemplating where to intercept Xie Xiaobao—in any case, they all resided in Yaoguang Ward, making encounters quite convenient.

At this juncture, Lei Zhanqian approached them directly. Zhong Xuan Sheng and Jiang Wang exchanged glances, both somewhat puzzled. Save for those few instances of seeking a beating, Lei Zhanqian had never taken the initiative to converse with them.

Lei Zhanqian looked only at Jiang Wang and spoke concisely. “Jiang Qingyang. Wuqi… left a dying command for me, asking me to invite you to Changsheng Palace once, saying there is a gift for you.”

Jiang Wang was greatly surprised, yet still nodded. “Thank you, Brother Lei, for the guidance.”

Zhong Xuan Sheng remained silent by his side. Jiang Wuqi was dead; even drawing closer to Changsheng Palace now would not arouse suspicion. A visit to Changsheng Palace, whether for mourning or to pay respects, posed no significant issues.

“You’ve been to Changsheng Palace, you should know how to get there… just like this, I’ll head back first.” Lei Zhanqian spoke, then turned away.

Jiang Wang was even more surprised. “Brother Lei, you’re not going?”

Lei Zhanqian did not turn back, merely waved his hand listlessly. “Tired, going home to sleep.”

Lei Zhanqian was not truly foolish. Jiang Wuqi had a gift for Jiang Wang, and Changsheng Palace was filled with people; why specifically ask him, Lei Zhanqian, to extend the invitation? It was clearly intended to use this opportunity to resolve the tension between himself and Jiang Wang. Jiang Qingyang was now in full ascendance; among the entire younger generation of Qi, only a single Zhong Xuan Zun could truly compare with him. Realistically speaking, after Jiang Wuqi’s death, he, Lei Zhanqian, could not contend with him. The Lei family was merely a second-rate clan; the Zhong Xuan, Li, and Yan families all surpassed them. He, Lei Zhanqian, had lost to Jiang Wang three consecutive times, each defeat more crushing than the last. The first loss in the Seven Star Valley, the second at the Unrivaled Martial Field, the third at the Master Ceremony—beaten to the point of near-loss of confidence. Now Jiang Wang had entered the Outer Tower and, with his sword, had defeated Chen Suan at Xingyue Plain, vying for invincibility below the Shenlin realm. Without Jiang Wuqi’s support, what means did he, Lei Zhanqian, possess to contend?

Jiang Wuqi’s request for him to invite Jiang Wang was a hope to earn Jiang Wang’s understanding. Using the lingering influence of a departed soul to smooth the troubled waters for his cousin. He understood Jiang Wuqi’s intention. He had always held himself in high regard, looking down on others. Yet, why did he, his cousin, always require Jiang Wuqi’s intervention to resolve situations? He had long grown accustomed to that voice, perpetually tinged with coughing, offering tireless reminders on everything from dealing with people to cultivation. Though slightly younger, he had acted mature beyond his years since childhood, always telling him what was good and what was not, pointing out his flaws, and always mindful of his cousin’s dignity. He recalled how, when very young, his grandfather had told him that his cousin had no mother and that he must take good care of him. But why, after so many years, had he, Lei Zhanqian, always been the one cared for? Even now that the young man wrapped in snow-white fox fur had departed forever, he still, from that eternally unreachable distance, cast a concerned gaze, resolving conflicts for his cousin.

Jiang Wang also perceived this intention. And Jiang Wang’s attitude was accommodating. But how could he accept it? Could it be that he, Lei Zhanqian, had never helped Jiang Wuqi, but had always been his burden? He grieved over Jiang Wuqi’s sudden departure, pained by his own powerlessness, and physically and mentally exhausted because all this was irreversible. He had once sworn to clear all obstacles for his cousin; for this, he had not hesitated to act against everyone in the Seven Star Valley, daring to provoke Jiang Wuxie. But had he truly accomplished anything? He was weary.

Lei Zhanqian’s complex emotions were perhaps somewhat discernible to Jiang Wang, but he said nothing, only looked at Zhong Xuan Sheng. “Do you want to accompany me to Changsheng Palace?”

“Again, no invitation for me.” Zhong Xuan Sheng pouted. “Don’t even think about making me your carriage driver and keeping watch outside the palace!”

Jiang Wang responded with exaggerated regret. “Then I’ll take my leave first, Brother Zhong Xuan.”

“There’s no need for such formality in parting. Fourteen and I will await you at your residence,” Zhong Xuan Sheng giggled again.

Unable to hitch a ride, Duke Jiang could only proceed on foot. Walking while contemplating Dao techniques was another form of enjoyment, dispelling a touch of melancholy. Now that he had entered the Outer Tower, he could attempt to cultivate the super-grade Yellow Rank Dao techniques previously acquired, “Dragon Tiger” and “Flame Flower Burning City.” Although Yellow Rank Dao techniques generally required Shenlin realm cultivation as a prerequisite, Jiang Wang possessed some foundation in both, whether inherited from Old Yang’s “Dragon Tiger” or Zuo Guanglie’s “Flame Flower Burning City.” Furthermore, for cultivating “Flame Flower Burning City,” he possessed the Fire Element divine ability, Samadhi True Fire. As for “Dragon Tiger,” known for the saying “the human body has the spine as a dragon, capable of drawing in the eight winds as a tiger,” his Buzhou Wind was one of those eight winds.

Yet, belonging to the super-grade level, even with extensive contemplation before entering the Outer Tower and persistent effort on his journey from Xingyue Plain back to Qi, he remained unable to grasp them. Cultivation was a lengthy process, powerful Dao techniques not attainable in a single day. Jiang Wang was not anxious, merely standing at the threshold, slowly exploring.

The Pointing Generals Platform was located in the western part of Linzi city, a considerable distance from Changsheng Palace. After walking for a while, Jiang Wang had to don a cloak to avoid being recognized and surrounded again. By now, his reputation in Linzi, following a series of events, had reached its zenith. Few would dispute his claim to being the foremost young talent in Qi. A leisurely stroll was no longer a possibility.

Speaking of which, he was also quite curious about the gift Jiang Wuqi had left for him. He honestly felt he had no deep friendship with Jiang Wuqi. Their limited interactions had either been related to Jiang Wuyong or Lei Zhanqian, and they had not been particularly pleasant. Their only private interaction was that time they verified the first place in the Inner Treasury through a spar. To say they admired each other, yes, that was true. To say they had a private friendship, they hadn’t had time to establish one. Of course, Jiang Wuqi was Jiang Wuqi after all. Even if this gift were merely a pretext to mend the rift between him and Lei Zhanqian, it would undoubtedly possess something extraordinary. Or perhaps, no matter what it was, due to the name “Jiang Wuqi,” it naturally evoked a sense of anticipation.

Among the palace complexes of the Qi Imperial Palace, the Chang Le, Hua Ying, Yang Xin, and Chang Sheng palaces were particularly special. Situated in the outer layer of the palace group, each vaguely formed a central point.

When Jiang Wang arrived at Changsheng Palace, the guards outside the palace gate were not few. The person was gone, but the tea had not cooled so quickly. He had heard that the emperor had ordered Changsheng Palace to be permanently retained; it should not change… Welcoming him at the palace gate was the eunuch Feng. Though only a short period had passed, this elder with a pair of dark eyes had grown even more aged. And the subtle feeling of danger that had once emanated from him was no longer present. His sorrow was evident between his brows, yet his etiquette remained meticulous. “Duke Jiang.”

Jiang Wang humbly returned the courtesy, then said, “Brother Lei told me that the Eleventh Highness left a gift for me.”

Feng Gu looked behind him several times. “Was it Young Master Lei who sent you?”

Jiang Wang replied indifferently, “He was a bit tired and went back to rest first.”

Feng Gu likely understood Lei Zhanqian’s temperament, for he merely sighed softly, then said, “Please come this way.”

Following Feng Gu, this was his second visit to Changsheng Palace. It was still that grand palace, but no matter how Jiang Wang looked, he could no longer find the sense of brilliance it possessed during his first visit. It had nothing to do with the lighting or the layout. The spirit of this palace had indeed departed with that ailing prince.

Along the long corridor, Feng Gu’s footsteps were silent, while Jiang Wang’s steps were clear and firm. He had come calmly, to fulfill Jiang Wuqi’s dying command. It could also be seen as completing that evenly matched battle, bidding farewell to that astonishing streak of rainbow across the sky.

Feng Gu, walking ahead, suddenly spoke. “His Highness actually always greatly appreciated the Duke, often saying that having a talent like you come east to enter Qi was a fortune for Great Qi. However, because you were close to the Third Highness, he did not wish to make things difficult for you, and thus did not pursue a closer relationship.”

Jiang Wang was somewhat at a loss for words and simply said, “I also greatly admire the Eleventh Highness.”

Feng Gu no longer spoke. Unlike last time, when he had been eager to introduce everything to Jiang Wang, his words brimming with pride, he now seemed very aged. Like this palace, something supporting it had been withdrawn. Regarding Jiang Wuqi, he clearly had countless topics to discuss… but what was there to say? The person was already gone.

He still led Jiang Wang to the same side hall as last time. Feng Gu took a deep breath, then stopped at the door, gesturing sideways for him to enter. “His Highness said that in this hall, any object you like, Duke, you may take. Should we not meet again, it can be considered a memento for the Duke.”

Jiang Wang recalled that this was Jiang Wuqi’s study. The usual dwelling of the master of Changsheng Palace would naturally not lack valuable objects. The value of these two words, “任取” (take as you please), was immeasurable.

Thereafter… no meeting. The news of Jiang Wuqi’s death had always left Jiang Wang feeling somewhat disoriented, with an indescribable sense of unreality. Although he knew such news could not be false, he always felt there might be some unexpected turn. Such a dazzling figure, how could he simply die? It wasn’t until he heard Eunuch Feng’s words that he truly realized—Jiang Wuqi had indeed departed. Death offered no leniency because of his brilliance.

Jiang Wang entered the hall and first noticed the desk. On the upper right corner of the desk, a stack of leisure books was piled. Jiang Wuqi had once mentioned reading stories of benevolent scholars, malevolent ghosts, and heroes in his rare moments of leisure. Thinking of it now, for a person with such a heart for the world, idleness was the greatest suffering. Thus, he needed to find some solace in those so-called leisure books. Had he not been born into the imperial family, he might have carried a sword at his waist, roamed the world chivalrously, settling grievances with joy. Just like that day, eager to test one man’s valor against Jiang Wang. He was only seventeen years old.

On the upper left corner of the desk was a bowl of medicinal soup, long cooled, yet still emitting a bitter aroma. In the center of the desk, a stack of snow-white rice paper was spread. Besides the brush placed on the inkstone, the ink had already dried.

“His Highness left in a hurry, I didn’t tidy much,” Feng Gu explained from behind.

This study had two entire walls of bookshelves, filled with a dazzling array of books. Feng Gu stood before the wall opposite the desk and proactively introduced, “These are all classics from the various schools of thought; there are works from almost every school. The ones left are mostly those His Highness researched and felt had value for discussion.” Jiang Wang merely glanced over them, a sigh of their vastness rising within him.

Feng Gu then walked to the other wall, introducing it seriously. “Here are some Dao laws, secret techniques, and His Highness’s cultivation notes, some articles written by His Highness, some poems, calligraphy, and paintings.” This wall’s bookshelf was also packed, demonstrating Jiang Wuqi’s immense accumulation of knowledge.

Feng Gu raised his hand, pointing to the wall opposite. “Here are some exquisite objects that His Highness liked, among them some magical artifacts with good power… Duke, if you like anything, just take one.” Leaning against this wall’s shelf were various objects, most of which Jiang Wang had never seen before. Last time he had only glanced quickly; this time, he looked carefully… still able to see but not recognize.

The entire study, only the wall behind the desk, was bare. Behind the desk, on the large chair where Jiang Wuqi often sat, lay a white, somewhat worn pillow, which Feng Gu did not mention.

Jiang Wang walked to the bookshelf containing Jiang Wuqi’s articles and notes and asked, “May I look through them?”

“You may do as you please,” Feng Gu said.

He did not look at the precious cultivation secret laws, nor did he peruse the cultivation notes of this exceptional talent. Jiang Wang simply quietly flipped through some articles written by Jiang Wuqi. The Eleventh Prince’s thoughts on this country, this world, on life, were all reflected in these articles. Reading his writings was like interacting with the person himself.

He read for a long time, one piece after another. Feng Gu did not urge him, merely silently accompanied him.

After flipping through the articles for a while, Jiang Wang went to look at Jiang Wuqi’s calligraphy and paintings. The scroll placed on top was a piece of writing, clearly penned not long ago, not yet mounted. Jiang Wang unrolled it and saw a vigorous and grand script:

“Heaven does not abandon me, Great Qi, born me, Jiang Wuqi!”

This writing displayed a spirit that did not match the Eleventh Prince’s usual sickly appearance. But it better matched the image of the master of Changsheng Palace who had used himself as bait to eliminate the Pingdeng country’s spies on Qi’s border.

“I want this writing,” Jiang Wang said.

“Of course, you may…” Feng Gu was somewhat surprised. In this study, amidst countless treasures, numerous secret techniques and artifacts, and the renowned works of various schools, Jiang Wang had chosen none of them, only selecting Jiang Wuqi’s final handwritten piece. Though written by Jiang Wuqi, it contained no divine secrets and was truly not as precious as the other objects. He could not help but remind, “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Jiang Wang carefully rolled up the writing, placed it in his storage box, and said seriously, “His Highness said for me to leave a memento. This writing best allows me to remember him.”

Feng Gu was somewhat moved, but quickly controlled his expression, merely saying, “Duke, take whatever you wish; this is His Highness’s dying command.”

“Thank you.” Jiang Wang looked around. Traces of Jiang Wuqi were everywhere in this study, so fresh and vibrant, which was probably why Feng Gu was unwilling to tidy. “I hope His Highness, when he departed, attained what he sought,” he finally said.

Feng Gu lowered his eyes in response.

With the writing collected, Jiang Wang prepared to leave. But at this moment, Feng Gu suddenly remembered something. “Right,” he turned back, flipped through the bookshelf, took out a book, and walked over. “Last time the Duke came to Changsheng Palace, His Highness specially prepared this gift to give you… later, he did not have the opportunity.”

Jiang Wang knew that he had quickly left Qi after that, constantly being pursued… “What book?” He took it with some curiosity. He saw that it was a very exquisitely bound book. On the cover were five large characters: “Records of a Thousand Beauties of the Nations.”

Jiang Wang then vaguely recalled that last time, it seemed, perhaps, vaguely, he had indeed chatted with Jiang Wuqi about this book. In the lower left corner of the book was a seal, indicating: “Heavenly Capital Collection.”

Having been reading quite a lot recently, Duke Jiang naturally knew that “Heavenly Capital” was a long-established name in the publishing world, and “Heavenly Capital Collection” had always been synonymous with classics. He could not help but mutter to himself, “How can Heavenly Capital Collection also have typos?”

He could fully sense Jiang Wuqi’s intention, as the master of Changsheng Palace, to seek out the Heavenly Capital Collection version of “Records of a Thousand Beauties” simply because of his casual remark. But he had truly only made a casual remark; from youth to the present, he had essentially never read any leisure books. But in this situation, the intention of the deceased, how could he refuse? He could only accept it, sighing, “His Highness went to such trouble.”

Feng Gu bowed respectfully. “Duke, please proceed slowly. I am old and frail and will not see you off.”

“No need to send me off. You rest… Please mourn.”

Jiang Wang sincerely bowed, then left the palace alone. Although Changsheng Palace was vast, after visiting a few times, he had memorized the route.

While walking, he opened the book gifted by Jiang Wuqi, curious to see what kind of leisure book the Eleventh Prince had gone to such trouble to collect, and which had so fascinated Zhong Xuan Fenghua… After two pages. He quickly closed it. His footsteps quickened, his face flushed and his ears hot.